Sermons on the Sunday Readings in the Catholic Lectionary 2017

It means we're not dumb sheep.

April 30, 2017: The Third Sunday of Easter

You can find the readings here

Brief synopsis of the readings: We begin with the Old Testament prophet Ezekiel who proclaims that the Lord will open graves and raise those who have died. John's Gospel tells the story of Lazarus. Lazarus, along with his sisters Mary and Martha, were friends of Jesus. At the start of the Gospel Jesus was summoned as Lazarus was ill; Jesus insisted that Lazarus would not die and delayed his trip for two days. During that time Lazarus died and by the time Jesus arrived Lazarus had been buried in a tomb for four days. At the sight of Mary's tears, Jesus also wept. When he approached Lazarus' tomb he instructed that the stone covering the tomb be rolled away. He then commanded Lazarus to come out of the tomb, and he did. Many who witnessed this came to believe.

I hope I'm not alone in this, but I love the Harry Potter books (and yes, the movies). I appreciate the genius of JK Rowling, for her ability to create a world that fascinated millions of us. Along with others I loved the process of seeing these children, tweens, teenagers, and finally young adults learn how to claim and stretch their powers of magic.

And I found myself asking this question: As they progress as wizards in this magical world, is there anything they won't be able to do? I found my answer fairly soon. For all their power, no one had the power over death. In the first volume we learn that Harry's parents were killed by Voldemort. Others died in the series but the point is clear: Wizards' ability to levitate, expel demons, hide the truth from us muggles, and defy laws of physics. But their powers have a limit. Once someone dies, they are not coming back. Death is irreversible.

And let's face it: we've all wanted this power. When I was 21 my beloved maternal grandmother died of a heart attack. Some would say she "spoiled" me but I always found her kind and generous and I cried when I got the call that she died. Three days later I entered the funeral home for the viewing. Lying there she looked like my grandmother and I couldn't help thinking that maybe it wasn't too late give her CPR and bring her back. I wished I had the power to do that.

Clearly I didn't, and to be fair my grandmother probably still rejoices that I didn't have the power to jerk her out of Heaven and return her. She's no doubt happier that she's spending her time preparing a place for me and her other grandchildren.

But the concept of eternal life, the idea of life after death, gives hope and joy to all of us. From our earliest days we've confronted the reality of finite lives. Some of us gain the blessing of long lives, others believe our lives end too soon, and others mourn the early deaths of children and infants.

As Christians we've spent our entire lives believing that our earthly life promises a small percentage of our eternal life and that when we die we will go to Heaven, be reunited with our loved ones, and spend eternity in a place with no suffering or end.

And while that's a comforting belief we need to recognize that this was not the belief of the hearers of Ezekiel and John. For them, once this life was over, that was it. Death played the last card.

And that, to our ears, appears horrifically unfair. Some of us live long and happy lives; others live long lives in horrific despair. And so many live lives cut short much too soon. As a hospice chaplain I presided at the funeral of someone whose 15 days on earth were filled with suffering. Nothing was more unfair than the pain she endured, to say nothing of the pain her family suffered.

Left to our own devices, almost nothing points to an existence beyond this life. Ancient Greeks believed that we are all spirits and that earthly life was a punishment for some transgression. For them, death was a liberation. Those who heard Ezekiel had a vague belief that when the Messiah arrived those in the grave would come back to life, but their belief was far from universal. In other words nearly everyone else expected nothing after death.

In this context those who witnessed how Lazarus came back to life must have been puzzled. From our perspective we can see this through clear eyes: just as Jesus brought Lazarus back to life, so he will do the same for all of us.

While this is true, I think it's simplistic. It's true that Jesus did bring Lazarus back to life, this Gospel is much more complex, and I think it's instructive for our lives as disciples.

I've spoken about this before, but it's an honest question to ask how much Jesus knew of his role as Redeemer. Speaking only for myself, I believe that Jesus' role unfolded for him gradually, and that at the beginning of his life he did not fully understand who he was.

Today's Gospel makes a great deal more sense through this lens. We begin with an ill Lazarus in Bethany and Jesus nearby; when first learning of Lazarus' illness Jesus downplayed it. In fact, he hesitated for two days before coming to see him.

And once he did arrive, he found that his beloved friend had died and was buried in a tomb. Then we see the shortest verse in the Bible: "Jesus wept." Did he weep as an act of theatre? Did he weep out of empathy for Mary who also wept?

Or did he week because he had not yet gotten the message that he had the power to bring Lazarus back to life?

This Gospel shows Jesus at his apex: just as he brings Lazarus back from the dead, so too will he do this for all of us. In two weeks we will celebrate Easter when Jesus' Resurrection foreshadows the resurrection we will all experience. But I think it means more than that.

I believe that just as Jesus comes to fully appreciate his role, so do we. We are not called to live our lives passively awaiting our death and birth into eternal life. That would be too easy.

Do we have the power to bring someone back from the dead? Yes we do, and if you doubt this, ask a teacher. Death does not limit itself to heartbeat and respiration. Death of hope, death of a belief in ourselves, death of a future exist in so many of our lives. And if death does not find a home in us, good for us. But death probably does exist in people we know.

And when we find someone who sees no future, for whom physical death lags decades after spiritual death, this Lazarus calls us to be Jesus. Because if Jesus understood his role only when he recognized his power to bring Lazarus back to life, so too can we.

Believing we will all end up in Heaven calls us in one of two directions. We can choose not to care what happens to another because we will all end up in paradise. Or we can use whatever gifts we've been given to make Heaven happen to everyone we meet.

OK, maybe this this hope is ambitious. But it makes us more powerful than everyone in the Harry Potter series.

You can find the readings here

Brief synopsis of the readings: In our first reading we see the prophet Samuel called by God to travel to the home of Jesse of Bethlehem. There, he was told, God will call the next king of Israel from among Jesse's sons. Samuel was told to ignore the height or strength of Jesse's sons for that is not God's criteria. Jesse presented seven of his sons to Samuel, but none of them were suitable. Samuel asked Jesse if he had other sons and Jesse told him of his youngest who was tending sheep. This son, David, was summoned and God commanded Samuel to anoint David as king of Israel. John's Gospel recounts the iconic story of the man born blind. Jesus' disciples presented him with a man who was born blind and begged for his living. They asked Jesus if he was blind because of his own sin or his parents' sin. Jesus told them that his blindness was not the result of sin but instead so that "the works of God might be displayed in him." Jesus then spit on the ground, and smeared the mud on the man's eyes; he then instructed him to wash in the Pool of Siloam. When others noticed that he could see they brought him to the Pharisees. The Pharisees seized on the fact that Jesus cured him on the Sabbath, even though Jews were prohibited from working on the Sabbath. They then determined that Jesus could not be from God as he violated the Sabbath. When the man defended Jesus he was expelled from the Temple. Jesus then told the man that he (Jesus) was the Son of Man (the Messiah) and the man believed.

Sometimes being a Christian can be annoying. We are called to love people we don't like, we are called to make unpopular choices, and we are called act with courage when we want to belong.

Our first reading from Samuel comes at a difficult time in our history. Earlier in the the book of Samuel, Saul was anointed as King of Israel and all appeared to be right with the world. But God, in addition to appointing kings, also appointed prophets. Several times in the Bible these (God appointed) prophets were tasked with giving bad news to their kings. And while Saul was chosen by God, Samuel recognized that Saul fell out of God's favor and needed to be replaced.

And so our first reading began with God's command that Samuel find Saul's successor, and that he find him among the sons of Jesse. Obediently, Samuel went to Jesse asked him to produce his sons, and Jesse produced the sons he thought were worthy to rule Israel. But God had other plans. When Samuel recognized that none of Jesse's sons brought to him would rule Israel he asked Jesse if he overlooked someone. Yes, yes he did. Jesse had another son who was out in the fields. When summoned from the fields, Jesse's son David was anointed by Samuel to be King of Israel. Many of us chuckle at this because we recognize the phrase from Psalm 118 that "the stone that the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone." And so we can trace our history back to King David, the son that Jesse ignored. And yes, I'm aware that we traditionally think that David wrote many of the Psalms, and perhaps Psalm 118.

The kingship of David has commanded countless accounts, stories, and books from his life to ours I have no desire to walk that journey. Let me suffice it to say that God's plans for us don't always follow our desires.

And we can see this in today's Gospel. By the time of Jesus, and since, the Israelites accepted King David's reign as the summit of their history; they (and we) can only hope and pray for a time as good as David's reign.

This nostalgia, while enjoyable, can blind us into a dangerous complacency, a belief that just as Samuel recognized God's will so can we.

Today's Gospel teaches us nothing if it does not teach us that we don't fully understand God's will for us. The people of Jesus' time believed that God worked through human blessing and suffering. Just as David's blessing from God made him King, those who suffered did so because of God's displeasure. Infertile couples and the disabled were chosen by God for punishment for their sins.

Most of us recognize the story of the "man born blind" but we see him differently from Jesus' followers. They were puzzled by his blindness and they assumed his blindness resulted from someone's sin. As a matter of fact the reading begins with Jesus' disciples asking who was being punished for his blindness. Was it him or his parents? Frankly this offends our ears. Clearly he was not being punished as he was blind from birth and had no ability to sin. But what god would punish his parents for their sin by blinding their son? None of this makes sense to those of us who follow Jesus 2,000 later. And it shouldn't.

As I said it made sense to them. When pondering questions about God's will and intentions many sought the Pharisees for answers. It's commonly known that these Pharisees were some of the smartest and most educated people of their time. They were also frequently Jesus' targets. Jesus had no problem with their intelligence or their education, but did have a problem with their intransigence. They were in charge but also lived with a constant awareness that, much like the kings of old, their status was imperiled by someone new who claimed to speak for God. Without drawing too strong a line, If Jesus was the new Samuel, the Pharisees were the new Saul. As long as ordinary people asked the Pharisees the questions they were asking Jesus, the Pharisees could maintain their status, but once they asked Jesus, all bets were off.

Given that the blind man looked to them like a man who was cursed. And they had every reason to block Jesus' words that his blindness was not a curse but an opportunity for healing. Instead of rejoicing that this man could now see, they denounced Jesus for "breaking the Sabbath." Jews of that time (and Orthodox Jews to this day) prohibit work on the Sabbath. But if the Sabbath is meant to be a day devoted to God, what can be better than healing someone?

At first they tried to portray this healing as fake news: they interrogated his parents and attempted to coerce them into saying that this sighted man can't be their son because their son is blind. We can't blame them but they were intimidated and they fearfully dodged the question by suggesting they ask their son directly. Changing their target, they then demanded that this man denounce Jesus as a sinner. When he refused he was driven away. This being "driven away" is more important than it sounds. It wasn't just "leave this place" or "see you later." It was exile. As a blind begger he didn't have much going for him, but he could cobble together a miserable, but possible, life. But this "driven away" meant he his sight cost him everything. We don't know what happened to him, but it wasn't good.

At the end of the Gospel this man professes belief in Jesus as the Messiah so we can hope that he was included in the first believers in Jesus, a member of the earliest days of our church.

I hope so because he showed us incredible courage. Had he denounced Jesus as a sinner he could have received the best of all worlds: he gained his sight and maintained his place in the community (though he likely would have had to stop begging and get a job).

But the heart of this issue gives us something deeper. While the Pharisees continued to see this in terms of "who can we blame," Jesus sees this in terms of "what can we do" and acts to heal his blindness. This is where we come in.

When faced with evil, or suffering, or disease, or disability, we should act as Jesus and not as the Pharisees. Fair enough, if we're not ophthalmologists we likely can't cure someone from blindness, but that's too narrow the focus. Through the power of Christ we do have the power to heal, even (and especially) when it takes courage.

Most of us have worked in several places, some good, some bad. In my experience I've found a dichotomy between them. In my best experiences I've worked where the corporate ethos was "how can we make this better?" But I've also worked where the ethos was "who can I blame?" The first is empowering and the second is fearful.

When we find ourselves in a place with the "who can I blame" ethos we are not powerless. Jesus teaches us that we have the power to transform and empower. It takes courage but we can reach out to this blind man instead of blaming him or someone else.

I admire the man born blind because his courage stood in the face of the fear of the Pharisees. The Pharisees looked on this miracle with fear because they worried for their status. The (formerly) blind man's parents looked on it with fear because they feared the same thing. But this man showed courage in refusing to denounce Jesus.

At the beginning of this homily I spoke about our call to choose courage when we want to belong. The call to remain silent for fear of being driven away or exiled is strong. But our commitment to follow Jesus calls us to the courage to stand with the man born blind instead of the Pharisees. And it calls us to speak our truth when the ethos demands us to give in to fear.

You can find the readings here

Brief synopsis of the readings: Our first reading, from Exodus, does not provide our best chapter as followers of God. After being liberated from Egyptian slavery by Moses, these refugees found themselves thirsty in the middle of the desert. They turned on Moses and accused him of forcing their liberation claiming: "Why did you ever make us leave Egypt? Was it just to have us die here of thirst with our children and our livestock?" In desperation Moses cried out to God who instructed Moses to take his staff and strike a rock (in Horeb) and cause water to flow from it. When Moses did this and water flowed from it. Water also claims center stage in today's Gospel. Jesus and his disciples came to a Samaritan town called Sychar. While his disciples went into town, Jesus sat by a nearby well. While he was there a Samaritan woman came to draw water from the well. Jesus asked her to get him a drink, but the woman expressed surprise that Jesus (a Jew) spoke to her (a Samaritan). Jesus then told her that he could provide "living water." She scoffed at this as Jesus had no bucket and no way to get this living water. But when Jesus told her that after drinking this living water she would never be thirsty again she got excited at the idea of not having to walk to the well each day. Then Jesus told her he knew that she had five husbands and was not married to the man she was currently living with. She immediately recognized that Jesus was a prophet but was still troubled that he was a Jew and she was a Samaritan. Jesus answered this by telling her that she "will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem."

One of the annoyances of professing belief in Jesus Christ is the recognition that we are called to love people who are hard to love. And, in our first reading, we find no better example than "the people" in the reading from Exodus. Lest we forget, these were the people who were enslaved in Egypt and cried out to God for relief. God, through Moses, chose this group not only for liberation from slavery, but also as God's Chosen People from that day forward to today and into the future.

And at the first opportunity they immediately began to complain. Now on one hand it is fair that they feared dying of thirst in the desert, but they made it sound as if God and Moses kidnapped them from paradise. I spoke about this three years ago, but I could easily see God and Moses sending them back to Egypt and finding another Chosen People (speaking only for myself I could easily see Hawaii as the Promised Land).

God, in his mercy and love, did something remarkable. He provided water, certainly, but he involved Moses and some of the elders of Israel in the solution. God didn't say: "look for the water under that rock." Instead he instructed Moses to strike a rock with his staff (the staff Moses used to part the sea) to begin the flow of life saving water. The people could then clearly see that God will ensure their safety and that Moses was a trustworthy leader. In other words their future lay in both God's actions (providing the water) and ours (Moses striking the rock). In this way the ungrateful people become the Chosen People.

The transformation from outcast to chosen continues in John's Gospel. This Gospel is long and a great deal happens, but much of it lies below the surface.

Many of you know this, but I'm a big baseball fan. When I tell this to people, a significant percentage tell me that they can't watch baseball because "it's too boring." I've given up trying to explain that the more you learn about the game the more interesting it becomes.

I see the same thing in today's Gospel. If we read this and reduce it to "Jesus meets a woman, asks for a drink, and tells her that he will provide water that will save her," it's a pretty boring reading. But there is so much more to this Gospel.

We begin our understanding of this reading with the recognition that Jews saw Samaritans as beneath contempt. Jews saw Samaritans as frauds who claimed to be chosen of God but had wandered off. The parable of the Good Samaritan makes its point because no Jews thought of Samaritans as good.

And yet Jesus and his disciples travel to Sychar. But their location is hardly the most important point. The shocking development in today's Gospel lies in the interaction between Jesus and the unnamed Samaritan woman. It's hard to imagine that anyone other than this woman would be lower on the pecking order than her.

I've already spoken of how she was a Samaritan. Don't even get me started on the place of women at this time and in this place. Volumes can be (and have been) written on how poorly women were regarded then, and two weeks ago I spoke about how Eve has been vilified in our history. According to the customs of the day this woman should have kept her head down and her mouth shut as she drew water from the well. For his part Jesus should have ignored her.

But he didn't. Against the rules he not only spoke to her, he made a request. He made himself in need of a favor. This unnamed woman answered in her surprise and probably feared for her safety; she reminded him of their roles toward each other. I can only imagine how surprised she must have been at his claim to provide living water.

When we hear the phrase "living water" it may not mean much to us, but it meant a great deal to her. "Living water" was water that flowed; it was river water rather than pond water and living water from a well meant that it tapped into an underground river. For good reason it was believed to be purer and healthier as it contained fewer impurities. This well held value as it provided living water, but the water provided no value to anyone without a bucket or a method of scooping it up.

And finally we read the most astounding part of this Gospel. Jesus recognized that this woman was not only held in contempt by men, but by other women. This woman walked from her home to the well in the "sixth hour." It's easy for us to ignore this, but the sixth hour comes in the middle of the day, the worst time to walk long distances. Most women walked to the well close to sunrise, in the cooler part of the day, and they walked in groups. We have reason to believe that the woman in the Gospel encountered Jesus because she was not welcome to join the other women at sunrise; she walked in the hotest part of the day because she was not welcome to walk with the other women.

This may be a stretch but I find validity when Jesus "outs" her by recognizing that she had what we would call a "complicated sexual history." She had five husbands and was living with a man she was not married to. Throughout our history we've witnessed a double standard where men are congratulated for a sexual history that demeans women. We don't know why her history included five husbands and a current partner but I doubt it finds it's root in promiscuity.

And so we find in a relationship between our Redeemer and this Samaritan woman with a complicated sexual history. Jesus had every reason to ignore or condemn this woman. Instead he teaches her (and us) that his redemption will save all of us. He tells her that regardless of her ancestry, her sex, or her history, she is welcome in the Kingdom he proclaims.

These readings mean nothing to us if they don't demand that we do the same thing. We live in a time where racism, xenophobia, and religious intolerance claim an increasing role. We are called to break with custom and reach out to those we are supposed to hate.

You can find the readings here

Brief synopsis of the readings: We begin in the 12th Chapter of Genesis. Here God calls Abram to leave his home and journey to a new land. God promises to make him famous as the head of a great nation. "All the tribes of the earth shall bless themselves by you." Abram did as he was told. In Matthew's Gospel Jesus climbed a high mountain with Peter, James, and John where they could be alone. Once there Jesus' "face shone like the sun and his clothes became as white as the light." Moses and Elijah appeared and spoke to Jesus. Astounded, Peter proclaimed that it was good to be there and promised to build tents to commemorate the event. But he was interrupted by a bright cloud that appeared and proclaimed: "This is my Son, the Beloved; he enjoys my favor. Listen to him." Jesus then told them not to be afraid.

Did you ever wonder when Jesus recognized he was the Messiah? It's actually a more complex question than we might think. John's Gospel begins by telling us that the Word existed from "the beginning." But the other three Gospels (called the Synoptic Gospels) describe Jesus in human terms and it's an open question about Jesus' self awareness. And while both Matthew and Luke trace Jesus' genealogy there is nothing that makes Jesus the son of God. This may sound strange, as the teaching on the Trinity firmly plants Jesus in that role. But our belief in the Trinity came only after years of debate in the early Church.

Granted his parents, Joseph and Mary, were given insights at his birth, but we don't know how much they told him. And let's face it: parents often see possibilities in their children that they choose not to share because they want their children to discover their gifts on their own. Or they don't trust their insights and wish to make certain their children find a path that fulfills them. Those of my generation or older grew up thinking Jesus knew is role from the very beginning. Had we be given a time machine and a piano we could have travelled back 2000 years and heard Jesus play Mozart perfectly.

Today I don't think many of us believe this. I like to think that Jesus, who is both human and divine, grew up like the rest of us. As he grew up he learned, like the rest of us, how the world worked and how he fit into his place. As we grew up learning our strengths and weaknesses, our "call," so did Jesus. I like to think that Jesus recognized his role redeemer gradually.

Last week's Gospel showed Jesus at a vulnerable place: after fasting for 40 days he was confronted by the devil, and he withstood temptation. Today's Gospel comes much later, the 17th chapter of Matthew, but we can see this as a logical trend. In the chapters in between Jesus spent a great deal of time teaching his disciples. The 5th chapter gives us the Sermon on the Mount and following chapters show us healings and other miracles.

All these scenes provide us a blueprint for the Kingdom of God that we all find familiar, but very little tells us exactly who Jesus is. Today's Gospel, known as the "Transfiguration" cements Jesus' place: He is seen in the presence of Moses and Elijah. Clearly this moved Peter, James, and John. But how did it affect Jesus?

We don't know exactly what he was thinking but he did tell them not to tell anyone until the "Son of Man has risen from the dead." We don't know, but can imagine that Jesus recognized himself here as the "Son of Man," a term often used to describe his role in the salvation of the world.

Did the Transfiguration inform Jesus of his role? Perhaps it did. Previous to this he clearly saw himself as a teacher, and many non Christians limit him to this role. But we know him to be so much more. And while we don't know for certain when Jesus recognized himself as Redeemer, this may well be the point where he recognized who he was.

Was it a surprise? We don't know. It certainly wasn't as clear as our reading from Genesis about Abram. Abram and Sarai were blessed by wealth, but not with children. They could easily have thought themselves cursed because they were elderly and were not able to conceive a child; at the time infertility was seen as a sign of God's disapproval. But out of this God calls them to find a people so great that three modern religions trace our roots back to them (Judaism, Christianity, and Islam). They went from cursed to blessed in one event.

As I read these readings in the context of Lent, I'm struck by how we discern our role in God's Kingdom. In the play Fiddler on the Roof Tevye tells us that tradition tells all of us who we are and what God expects us to do. That's fine but it's been my experience that it's much harder for us to do that with any certainty. Most of us can remember times when we've struggled with a decision, where we've wanted to follow God's call but just didn't know where we were being led. And we've eventually made that decision armed with the best information we knew; in other words, it was a journey.

And so perhaps we can look at these readings. As many of you know, I used to be a Catholic priest. I certainly have my own story of discernment, but it always fascinated me to hear from others how they decided that God called them to priesthood. Some told of an event, an epiphany, where they suddenly recognized that priesthood was the path that would fulfill them. Others spoke of a hunger that seemed almost imperceptible at first, but grew. One day they found themselves spending a disproportionate amount of time at church and not thinking much of their career.

And this is not exclusive to priesthood. Both Abram and Jesus (and Peter, James, and John) were not particularly listening but God spoke to them. They recognized that the call of God comes not on our time but God's. And their willingness to pay attention changed our history.

In our lives we will not receive the calls of Abram or Jesus, but that should not dissuade us from listening to our calls from God. Our journey in Lent is a microcosm of our journey in life. We'll be faced with decisions about marriage, children, career, and location and we'll look to God for help.

But these readings also remind us that sometimes the call of God comes as a surprise. Abram was not expecting to be called to travel to a new land and found a new people, and likely Jesus did not expect to be in the company of Moses and Elijah. And so let us journey with the understanding that our call may surprise us.

You can find the readings here

Brief synopsis of the readings: We begin Lent in the second chapter of Genesis. Here, Adam and Eve were placed in the Garden of Eden along with the serpent. While God planted a garden for them, God commanded them not to eat from a particular tree (the "tree of the knowledge of good and evil"). In a conversation between Eve and the serpent, the serpent encouraged Eve to eat of the "forbidden fruit." He told her that while God instructed her not to eat of this fruit, God would be pleased if she did. On his encouragement she ate of the fruit and gave it to Adam who also ate of it. On eating of the forbidden fruit they both recognized they were naked and covered themselves. Meanwhile, Matthew's Gospel recounts the beginning of Jesus' ministry. Jesus travelled into the wilderness and fasted for forty days and nights. "The Tempter" appeared to him and attempted to encourage him to turn stones into bread and become a disciple of Satan. Jesus refused this and also refused Satan's promise to make him a king of a kingdom. Jesus then commanded Satan to "be off."

I'm going to make a prediction here and suggest that most of the homilies delivered this weekend will concentrate on the Gospel. I've certainly done that several times, but today I want to focus on our first reading from Genesis.

It's a reading familiar to even those with a passing knowledge of Judaism and Christianity. And most, if not all, of us were told this: Adam and Eve had things perfect in the Garden of Eden. God imposed only one rule and they broke it. This exiled them from Paradise and caused their lives to be hard. It also created original sin that is passed down from generation to generation to us and even thousands of years later we will not be allowed into Heaven unless we're baptized.

And while I don't think most of us really believe that Limbo and Hell are populated with unbaptized children and adults, I do think many still believe Adam and Eve had a good thing going and blew it.

I'm going to challenge that. This may be an uncomfortable homily for you, and perhaps I hope it is. I think this reading says more about the community that struggled to write it than it does about God.

A little background: the first five books of the Bible (Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy) were classically thought to be written by Moses. But in the last few centuries Bible scholars have rejected that and now believe they come to us from at least three different sources and were compiled during the Babylonian Exile (586-539 BCE). They feared they would not survive their exile and be lost to history; they wrote these books as a way to preserve their identity. It worked.

And so back to our story: It's clear from the very beginning that Adam, Eve, and serpent held a place in God's kingdom apart from the rest of the animals. I think we can safely assume that the other animals in the Garden of Eden are much like the animals we live with today. They are capable of fear and many of them understand their place in hierarchies (hence the name "top dog").

But none of them would have understood God's command not to eat something that tempts them. There's no point in telling your dog he can eat all the dog food he wants from this bowl but not from another. Likewise cat owners happily tell us there's no point in trying to keep them off the furniture.

And yet God places this condition on Adam and Eve and even places this forbidden fruit (on the "tree of life") in the middle of the garden. I remember well hearing the Biblical scholar Dr. Amy-Jill Levine comment that she would never do this with her own children because the temptation would be too much, and it would be silly to set up something that she knew would likely fail.

Additionally, the serpent also occupies a unique place in this story. He is described as "the most cunning all animals." And not only does he have the ability to communicate with Eve, he has an agenda: he wants Eve (and presumably Adam) to eat the forbidden fruit. And so what do we take away? Do we reduce this scene to a seducer (the serpent), a temptress (Eve), and a victim (Adam)? By the Middle Ages this occupied everyone's understanding of this reading. But perhaps in the 21st Century we need to suggest another model.

From our earliest days we've struggled to understand our relationship with God. The pagans who surrounded the Israeli exiles worshipped many gods and we have little evidence that these gods cared much for them. These gods demanded worship and obedience but they (to my thinking) never loved or cared for them. The God of Adam, Eve, Abraham, Moses, and the rest of us clearly expressed love for all of us. The previous chapter of Genesis tells us that we were created of God's image.

Is it too much to imagine that the serpent did what God hoped he would do? While God threatened death for eating the forbidden fruit, that didn't happen. As a people, we gained and we lost and I think we gained a great deal more than we lost. We certainly lost innocence and we now have a need for clothes that enslave us to care about fashion, patterns, binding undergarments, neckties, and high heels.

But we gained so much more. We gained a relationship with God that gives us the ability to love each other in a way that mirrors God's love for us. Animals don't love each other. They reproduce based on patterns that care nothing for long term relationships and care only for their ability to create their next generation. But our relationships find not only our ability to reproduce but our ability to love each other forever. We love each other and our children with a love that goes beyond words. Only then can we love each other as God love us.

And so how does this begin our journey of Lent? Lent provides us a journey where we can focus on our faith life. For many Lent provides an opportunity to "give something up," or stop eating/drinking/doing something we enjoy but probably shouldn't do. If that works for you I'm not going to discourage it. But perhaps we can spend Lent 2017 celebrating God's desire to gift us with the ability to live in God's image and celebrate our role.

Perhaps Lent calls us to celebrate our first reading, to see that while Eve's decision to listen to the serpent made our lives harder, it also made it possible for us to love and be loved by God in a way that no other creations will know.

Maybe Lent calls us to renew our love for God and each other.

You can find the readings here

Brief synopsis of the readings: The first reading is from the prophet Joel. We don't know much about the author, but his meaning is clear. He is calling the people to repentance, to return to the Lord, and to listen to his comands. In Matthew's Gospel, Jesus pointedly tells his disciples not to do good things (e.g. fasting, giving to the poor) so that other people will think well of you. He suggest that if only God sees your piety or generosity, He will reward you. If you do it only for your glory, God will not be impressed.

Before I begin the homily I have to make a confession: if you've been reading this for more than a year you may recognize this homily. The readings every year are the same and I've decided to rerun my Ash Wednesday homily from the previous year. If you're new to this blog it's new to you and if you're one of the original readers, you'll read it again. Then again, perhaps there's some value to that. We're all a year older and have added a year's experience to our lives. So enjoy!

I have to confess that Ash Wednesday has always amused me a little. When I was growing up there were feasts during the year, like the Feast of the Assumption that were holy days of obligation. Even though they were weekdays where we all went to school or work, we were expected to go to church. Attendance was always mixed at best, particularly if the holy day was Thursday and we needed to finish mass to make way for the weekly bingo. But Ash Wednesday, which has never been a holy day, was always packed. I used to work at a church that was near several office buildings; we had to have 2 midday masses: 11:15 and 1230 to accommodate all the people who wanted to go to mass for the lunch hour.

It was also the day we could find out who else was Catholic. The ashes that were placed in the sign of the cross on our foreheads were a giveaway, and I've always suspected that was one of the reasons for the large attendance. Once, in college, I went to mass on Ash Wednesday and then to dinner at McDonalds (did I mention I was in college and had no money?). There I ran into someone I knew well but didn't know was Catholic. We shared filet o fish sandwiches and laughed over the fact that McDonalds didn't understand why so many of us with smudges were ordering fish. It was kind of a fun bond. From that day we always knew that if we saw someone else with the "mark of a Catholic" we shared a common belief system.

That public display was nice, but does that negate the Gospel where Jesus says to do these things anonymously? If I'm doing this to show others what I believe in the hope that they will respect me, what does that do for my spiritual health? How does that draw me closer to God?

That, perhaps, is the hardest part of these two readings. Joel tells us to "proclaim a solemn assembly" while Matthew tells us to go quietly to our room and not make much noise. In an ironic twist, it is perhaps a mark of the success of Jesus' teachings that this is even an issue. Jesus' teachings that we should be humble and make sure that God alone knows of our piety is not a universal value. In the pagan world it was (and in some places still is) a value to draw attention to ourselves. They puff themselves up and exaggerate their importance because their reputation among their peers (or underlings) is of grave importance.

This isn't true just among ancient pagans: look at pop culture to see how many hopefuls crave the admiration of others and look to those groups for their own sense of worth. If we take this Gospel seriously we should hope for the respect of our peers over the adulation of strangers. And the fact that we can be concerned over how our humility and desire for repentance appears is a mark that we are on the right path.

Now I'd be remiss if I didn't also speak of Ash Wednesday as the beginning of the Season of Lent. Many of us remember being asked as children (and being evaluated on our answer) what we were "giving up for Lent." Invariably we were asked to give up something we liked and this lack would bring us closer to God. Over the years I've done by share of this; giving up everything from candy to soda to alcohol. But I also think we can look beyond giving up something we enjoy. If the purpose of Lent is to help us renew our relationship with God and not be distracted by worldly things, can we do something else? I've heard some suggestions that intrigue me. Years ago I read about someone who was committed to picking up a piece of trash every day. He reasoned that while it wouldn't make much difference in the gross tonnage of trash in the world, it would make him more aware of the world around him. I also spoke with someone who pledged not to look away when he saw people holding signs and asking for money on traffic islands. He told me he wasn't always able to help everyone but the least he could do is acknowledge the holiness of the other person.

But however we commemorate Ash Wednesday and Lent, let us remind ourselves that we are committed to a sense of constant renewal to ourselves, each other, and God. Hopefully when we celebrate Easter next month we can look back on this time with appropriate humility.